Page 48 of Stolen Threadwitch Bride
“It—it is warmth, my lady.” All the stories said the fae were sticklers for manners, and although I’d been living amongst them for a while now, the Lady of the Lake was another creature altogether, as different from Lysander as he was from me. “I made it for you, decorated it, whispered magic into it so that you might have a little heat in your great home.”
“It is cold in my home. Always cold and dark.” She reached out.
My stomach, my heart, every single internal organ lurched into my throat. Only the gods knew how I didn’t flinch, but she paused with rippling fingers inches from my offering.
Oh gods, what if she didn’t take it? What if I’d offended her by highlighting the bleak cold of her lake?
Every single story agreed—offending the fae was a terrible,terribleidea.
Teeth. So many sharp teeth. And her eyes—they hadn’t blinked since she’d surfaced.
“I accept your offering, little minnow.” She snatched the embellished rock from my hand, groaning as she held it to her chest. “Oh, Stars above, itiswarm.” A kind of terrifying serenity settled over her features as she stood there, soaking it in. “It is a good offering. What is it you ask in return?”
With a shaky breath, I bowed my head. “I wish to know my True Name. I’ve heard tales that your wisdom means you know such things.”
A sloshing gurgle came from her throat, and it took me a second to realise it was laughter. “I know a great many things. That a queen and not will come from the sea. That a night rider will come from the south and our world will be changed. I can tell you the answer you seek, no flattery required. But only if you can tell me the thing you desire with all of your being.”
While sewing the offering, I’d considered this, so my answer was ready. “I want to leave this place and return home to Briarbridge.”
She cocked her head and the sharp grin that had remained in the wake of her laughter faded to a soft smile. It reminded me of the smiles Rose and her mother had given me after Mama and Papa had died. “Oh, my sweet little minnow.” She shook her head. “That is not true. You are intrigued by Elfhame and wish to see more. And”—one eyebrow arched—“nowthatis interesting.” At last she blinked. “You desire the lord of this land.”
I choked on a laugh, shaking my head. How could she know that? I’d only just accepted it myself. And I certainly didn’t like him enough to stop wanting to go home. Did I?
“Aren’t you going to ask me how he feels about you?”
“You know that?”
“You heard me say I know a great many things, did you not?”
I could only nod.
She tilted her head again. “He feels for you as you do for him. Perhaps even more.” Her eyebrows flashed up and down as she grinned and glided away across the water. “Farewell, little minnow. My regards to dear little Lysander.” Cradling her stone, she sank beneath the surface.
Once the wake had faded, Fluffy butted my shoulder, and I realised I’d been staring.
Half in a daze, I made my way to Luna and mounted. All the way to the house I warred with myself. On one side of the battle, frustration at my failure to discover my True Name. On the other a wild, bright elation that Ly found me as fascinating as I found him. The Lady of the Lake couldn’t lie.
He feels for you as you do for him.
Did that mean he was torn as I was? On the one hand liking and wanting and longing… maybe evenfalling. On the other, mistrust and misgivings about what I was.
By the time I stabled Luna, the sun was peeking over the nearby mountains. I hurried to my room, splashed water on my face, and changed, then headed to the workroom.
Success. No one had missed—
“Where the hells have you been?”
The Yew
Night darkness pouring off him, Ly stood at the fireplace. The taste of his magic eddied through the room, tart and sweet, dark and bright. A muscle twitched in his jaw and his full lips were pressed together, pale.
My heart thundered. Oh, gods, Ihadbeen missed.
I pushed out an attempt at a breezy chuckle and shrugged. “Why? I’m not a captive, am I?”
He didnotlaugh. Nostrils flaring, he gave me a look that spelled out exactly how unamused he was.
“I couldn’t sleep”—not a lie—“so I went for a ride.” Also not a lie. This had to be how the fae deceived. It was easier than it sounded.
